The Shattered Dragon

Chapter 9: Take What You Want

The weekend was busy as promised, but still Hermione wasn't requested. It had been over a month since Theo had asked for her, but still she stood in the lineup dutifully every night and every night he walked right past her, barely catching her eye with a curt nod before speaking to the others. She didn't care if the girls froze her out but Draco held her life in his hands. As kind as he had been to her, as much as he'd revealed, she knew he had another side...a dark streak, a need for revenge. If she'd offended him she had to make it right.

"Mr. Malfoy..." she called to him when they were released on Saturday night.

"I have to go," he said. "My guests are already arriving, they'll be looking for me."

She reached out to grab his elbow and he wrenched his arm away as if she'd burned him, glaring at her over his shoulder.

"Don't," was all he said before leaving her alone on the landing, hopping down the stairs two at a time.

When the guests were there, Hermione often kept herself locked in her room, reading or writing in the journal Draco had given her. She took hot baths and stared out the window, fighting down the urge to break through the glass and run, damn the consequences or the pain. With winter coming she knew that her cabin fever would only get worse and being trapped in this well disguised prison did nothing to help, particularly with no one to talk to.

After the club was closed she wandered the halls to stretch her legs. Or at least that's what she told herself. As she shuffled through the hallways she found herself peeking into the atrium to find the piano closed, silent. She picked books from the library shelves but he never showed up to criticize her choices. Even when she sneaked into the kitchen to steal biscuits from the cupboard he didn't appear over her shoulder clucking his tongue and reprimanding her sweet tooth. She was awake until well after two in the morning and even then the light from his office seeped out under the black lacquer doors and she could hear the fire crackling within, but even knowing he was in there and most likely alone, Hermione never dared to knock.

Until Monday, when she'd grown tired of his game and decided that she'd waited long enough to get her answers.

"Mr. Malfoy?"

There was a long pause and she nearly turned away before he said,

"Come in."

He didn't look up when she opened the door and strode confidently into the middle of his study, standing with her arms crossed as if awaiting his answer to a duel.

"Why did you leave?" She asked, moving to stand directly in front of his desk arranging herself so he would be forced to see her. "I woke up and you were gone, the fire was out. You didn't even say goodbye? Thanks? See you later?"

With a sharp upward wave of his hand the door to the office slammed shut and he muttered a muffliato just to be safe. Finally he looked up and she could see that he'd fitted his aristocrat mask into place, his smile lopsided, eyebrow arched high. He wanted her to know that he was quite amused with her hysterics and he was ready to perform.

"You must not be familiar with prostitution, darling. You don't get paid to cuddle and fawn."

"I don't get paid at all Mr. Malfoy," she snapped and he barked out a short laugh, shaking his head.

"I never suggested I would be spending the whole night and you shouldn't have expected such a thing." He paused then, looking down at the journal he was writing in before glancing up again. "You're no different, no better than the other girls here, Sparrow."